


Layton

by Mystradigans



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I hate writing sad things, It's not my area, Kidlock, Or my division, and yeah I know that there's a third Holmes brother but I made my own cos I'm special..., childhood cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystradigans/pseuds/Mystradigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had always wanted Layton. Not Mycroft; his favourite was their oldest brother and Mycroft knew that he'd only ever be second best. The problem was that Layton wasn't going to be around much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layton

**Author's Note:**

> By Emily.

Layton

 

"Layton!" Sherlock squealed, flinging himself on to the foot of his eldest brother's bed.

"Hi Sherly" grinned Layton. "Hey Myc!"

"Hello" Mycroft said, forcing himself to smile. It shouldn't be this hard, he reasoned, to act brave for Sherlock. Layton managed it perfectly- then again, Layton managed everything perfectly.

"Thanks for coming to see me, sorry I'm not up to much" Layton said. "But I reckon I'll be out of here soon enough"

Sherlock beamed. "Yay! I brought some pictures to show you, Lay, since you're too poorly to play"

Layton agreed and Sherlock pulled out his notebook, pointing out various crayon drawings of pirates, bees and even several of Layton himself: fighting against a dragon or defending Sherlock against a grizzly bear.

"And then you said "Sherlock, here, take the sword! Only you can kill the monster!" Sherlock said animatedly, talking his brother through the story behind his favourite drawing.

"Yeah? How cool!" Layton enthused, before turning to Mycroft, keeping one hand in Sherlock's hair as the six year old continued explaining, oblivious to the fact that his audience's attention was elsewhere.

"How are you doing, Myc? Is everything OK at school?"

"More or less" Mycroft sighed. "The work's really boring." Stupid, Mycroft. Complain about school to the boy who's dying of leukaemia. That's tactful.

Layton doesn't mention his middle brother's complete lack of sensitivity of he even notices it. "That's such a shame- I've always said they need to challenge you more"

How is he so much more mature than me? Mycroft thought. He's only two years older. Layton had always been mature though.

"Yes. They do" Mycroft said. He knew he couldn't say what he wanted to say, couldn't jump onto the table and scream "YOU MIGHT DIE! STOP TRYING TO ACT NORMAL!" because Layton had to at least feel like he was protecting his little brothers from finding out the truth. Layton pretended everything was fine, Mycroft pretended he believed him and Layton pretended he didn't know Mycroft knew he was dying. They both pretended they were doing it for Sherlock's benefit.

"Layton?" asked a voice from the hall. It was a nurse.

"Hey, Sarah!" Layton smiled. "How are you? Did your daughter get over her cold?"

"She did, thank you Layton" the nurse smiled. All the nurses adored Layton- he was just the kind of patient they loved.

"Good to hear. Oh, these are my brothers. Ginger over here-" he pointed at Mycroft- "Is Myc. He's the looker. And Curly is the brains"

"Obviously" Sherlock smirked.

The nurse awww'd over Sherlock for a bit, then turned back to Layton. "I was just going to check on how you're doing. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm great, ta" said Layton easily. "You didn't see my parents hanging around, did you?"

"They're at Aunty Barbara's" Mycroft said before the nurse had to answer. "We got Mrs Hudson to bring us in".

Mrs Hudson was their housekeeper.

"Ah, Martha; I haven't seen her in forever!" exclaimed Layton. "Give her my love and say thanks for driving you over"

Mycroft felt grateful towards Lay for dispelling the awkwardness but he still felt bad. He knew his brother missed Mummy and Father- they'd both been struggling to cope since Layton was diagnosed aged 8 and had been avoiding their oldest son ever since his condition had become this bad, especially after his last hospitalization. Right now, Mycroft and Sherlock were home alone with just the servants and Mycroft was more than happy to pretend he didn't know that Layton knew this if it made it any easier for his brother.

"You're having a Good Day today but you still need rest" the nurse was saying. "Maybe your brothers had better go home now"

"No, Layy" whined Sherlock. "I don't want to go!"

"It's alright, you can come back later" the nurse promised, as if that made everything OK.

"Sorry, Sherly but she's right" Layton said regretfully. "Bring me some more pictures later on though, yeah"

Sherlock sighed. "Baldy" he sulked. "But fine. Love you, Lay"

"You too, Sherlock. See you, Myc" Layton smiled.

Mycroft didn't want to go, but he was somehow relieved to get out of this room, to not have to look at his big brother in this weak state anymore. Maybe he was more like his parents than he thought. He led Sherlock outside but couldn't help but glance back at the room. Layton seemed to slump back once he thought he was alone, as if giving up the facade of being fine once they could no longer be hurt by his pain and Mycroft knew that he was sad when he thought no-one was looking.

 

"Layton!" sobbed Sherlock, burying his face in Layton's chest. Layton had become so weak that it was difficult to believe that the cheery, protective older brother Sherlock and Mycroft visited just a month ago was now unable to even hold his head up.

"...Sherlock?"

"Yes, yes it's me! Layton?"

"Huh?"

"Sherlock" Mycroft said softly, then realised he didn't know what to say. What did one say at a time like this?

"Lay?"

"'M fine, Sherly" Layton muttered. "Just.. water..." he trailed off.

"He's losing consciousness" said someone in a white coat, a doctor, a nurse? Mycroft didn't know but he knew Layton would.

"...Sher..lock... Myc-"

"LAYTON!" screamed Sherlock in horror.

 

Mycroft watched from the window as Aunty Barbara said goodbye to the funeral-goers. Mummy and Father had gone back to hers a while ago, and he and Sherlock were supposed to be asleep. Well, he knew he wasn't asleep, and from the sound of it Sherlock wasn't either, unless he'd learned to cry in his sleep. It made him uncomfortable to listen to it because he knew that Layton would never have just stood there, letting their younger brother cry and doing nothing about it.

What would Layton have done?

He slowly padded out of his room and across the hall to Sherlock's, opening the door.

"Hey, Sherly, what's wrong?" he whispered, putting an arm around his brother.

Sherlock's crying ceased for a moment. And then he shrieked. "NO, MY! I WANT LAYTON! GO AWAY, MYCROFT- WHERE'S MY BIG BROTHER?"

"I am your big brother, Sherlock." Mycroft responded.

"NO! I WANT LAYTON! LAYTON!"

And Layton was the one thing Mycroft could never be. He padded back to his own room, feeling more inadequate than he'd ever felt before, and tried to sleep as Sherlock continued to cry for his older brother.


End file.
